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“Can you turn around?” I ask my dad as the airport comes into view, a sudden panic gripping at my chest so tightly I feel like I’m moments away from hyperventilating.
“Turn around?” My father seems confused, glancing to where I’m sitting next to him in the passenger seat of his SUV.
“I can’t do this,” I mutter under my breath. “I can’t do this,” I repeat a little louder. “I can’t fly half way across the world with someone I don’t even know. Why did I think I could do this?”
“Relax, sweetheart. You’re just nervous. It’s completely understandable.”
“This is insane. Why don’t you think this is insane?”
“It’s not insanity, Elara. It’s adventure. It’s living.” He gives me an amused smile, his eyes meeting mine for the briefest moment before finding the road again. “Besides, you’re my daughter. I know you. You’re more like me than I think you realize.”
“Mom always said I got my fearlessness from you. Though right now I don’t feel very fearless.” I blow out a breath.
“Did she ever tell you about the time I jumped off the hotel balcony into the pool?”
“Only like a hundred times.” I smile, my panic receding a bit. “She wanted to make me understand why it was careless and dangerous to do such things but I think it only succeeded in making me want to do them more,” I admit.
“God she used to hate how much of a risk taker I was. Made her a nervous wreck.”
“And now look at you; you’ve gone soft,” I tease.
“I’ve gotten old,” he counters. “My body can’t do the things it used to do. If I tried jumping two stories into a pool now I’d likely break a lot more than just my arm.” My dad turns into the drop off lane at the airport entrance and slows the SUV to a stop.
I knot my hands nervously in my lap.
“You’ve got this, El. You know as well as I do that you will never forgive yourself if you let your nerves keep you from taking this chance. Life is all about chances, Elara. Chances, choices, memories. These are all the things we get. Don’t be afraid to dive in head first.”
“Taking chances is what got me in this mess to begin with,” I remind him. “It’s why Kam isn’t here.”
“That’s not true and you know it. What happened to Kamden was a horrible accident. You can’t live your life carrying the responsibility of that weight.” He reaches across the middle console and squeezes my hand. “The guilt never goes away.” His statement pulls my gaze to his. “That they died and we lived,” he clarifies. “But just because someone dies, Elara, doesn’t mean you stop living. Kamden would want you to live each day to the fullest, just as your mother would want that from me.”
I think on that for a long moment, realizing he’s right. Kamden would want me to go. My mother would want me to go.
“You’re right,” I finally say, forcing a smile to my face. “I should probably head in or I’m going to miss my flight and then none of this will matter anyway.” I let out another breath before pushing open the door, the late August heat hitting me like a wave the second I climb out of the SUV.
My dad crosses around the back of the vehicle, retrieving my suitcase from the hatch before joining me on the curb.
Even though I’m sure I didn’t pack nearly enough for a four week trip, I hated the idea of having to worry about multiple pieces of luggage along the way. I have enough to make do, assuming that washing machines exist in Italy.
After doing some research I learned that Milan is in its peak summer season right now with temperatures right in the nineties, so most of my clothing is light and doesn’t take up a lot of room in my suitcase–so that helped too.
“Call me as soon as you land in Chicago.” My father waits until I’ve nodded before continuing, “And make sure to text me when you’re boarding your plane for Italy and then again as soon as you’ve landed.”
“I will,” I promise, realizing how nervous my dad seems. “I’m going to be fine,” I reassure him, figuring I owe him one after all the reassurance he’s offered me over the last couple of days.
“I know you are.” He smiles, pulling me into a tight hug. “I love you, Elara.”
“I love you too, Dad.” I pull back, looking up to meet his gaze. “You take care of yourself,” I say, wrapping my hand around the handle of my suitcase.
“Always.”
“Bye, Dad.”
“Bye, sweetheart.” He offers me one more encouraging smile before I turn around and disappear inside the airport.
I take another deep breath and let it out slowly as I look around the space, trying to figure out exactly where I’m supposed to go. I’ve only been inside an airport once before and that was when I was maybe ten or eleven and had come with my mom to pick up Aunt Carol who had flown in for Christmas.
My mom wasn’t much of a flier, and while she had done it a few times when she was younger, she had only flown once that I know of after I was born. So to say this is new territory for me would be a very accurate statement.
